


you can count on me to misbehave

by rachtana



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Pezberry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-02
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 09:58:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/502246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachtana/pseuds/rachtana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Santana opened her mouth and the one time she didn’t; a pezberry one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you can count on me to misbehave

__

~one~

She doesn’t know why the outburst surprises everyone. It’s not as if she’d been subtle before. Her face flushes, but only slightly, and she maintains her stance. “Hudson is being a fucking diva,” she says, folding her arms across her chest. “Everyone’s just going along with it because he’s the captain, but honestly? Nickelback is one band that even _Bieber_ would refuse to cover. You can’t always get your way, BFG.”

The club stands around her and Finn, with the exception of Rachel, who stands by his side with a worried look on her face. Everyone is eerily silent and she rolls her eyes, putting her weight on her left leg, waiting for a response. 

“How am I being a diva, Santana?” Finn asks seconds later, glancing at Rachel. She looks up at him with wide eyes, and then back at Santana, whose eyes could kill. 

“Your own girlfriend and co-captain doesn’t even want to do it, and you’re still pushing that damn song, whining like a kid who’s lost his lollipop.” Rachel bites her lip, and Santana smirks, knowing she’s right. Finn’s jaw drops, hanging open as he turns to stare at Rachel and she looks at him sadly.

“You know Broadway is...well, is more my style,” she says gently, putting her hand on his shoulder, “or even some pop song. I mean, we all know I blow Katy Perry out of the water.” Santana notices the kindness she shows him as she informs him of the news with a bittersweet smile, and she audibly sighs. She knows her anger can get the best of her, and she pretends it doesn’t bother her, but after seeing Rachel’s attitude, she feels guilt in the pit of her stomach. 

Like word vomit, though, the words fumble out of her mouth before she can catch them.

“Don’t baby him, Babs, he’s already got the mental capacity of a child; he doesn’t need a second mother.” She’s not sure why her anger doesn’t dull; she wonders why she keeps going. She looks at Finn, who has his arm wrapped around Rachel’s waist, and she twitches. She looks at Brittany, and then back at the couple whose saccharine relationship makes her want to vomit. 

“We’re not doing the song. Period,” she says harshly, glaring at the two. “Let’s go, Brittany,” she mumbles, taking her hand and walking swiftly out of the classroom.

__

~two~

Her heart races and she can feel her fists curl in anger. 

“She’s got a fucking huge-ass nose, and Finn’s a fucking fag...no wonder he’s with that fugly _thing_ ,” she hears a boy say to his friend in the hallway. They laugh together, and Santana throws her bag down and walks up to the pair. She taps the shoulder of the guy who made the joke, and he turns around. Santana smirks at him, and then--

“You really shouldn’t be talking about Rachel like that,” she says in a sugary sweet voice. The guy blows her off, and continues talking to his friend, but Santana pulls him away from the conversation and throws him up against the lockers behind him. “No, I don’t think you heard me. Listen, Mel Gibson...Rachel Berry might be annoying as fuck sometimes, but she’s more beautiful than your girlfriend,” Santana says sarcastically, “who just happens to be attached to your wrist. Next time you talk about my girl Rachel like that, I _will_ go all Lima Heights on your ass and ‘accidentally’ use the boxcutter I have hidden in my bra on your manhood. Got it?” The boy nods, and Santana backs off slightly. “And for the record, use the word ‘fag’ again, and I’ll add your balls into the mix. And let me tell you, that blade is fresh.” 

She turns on her heel, walking away, grabbing her bag and then folding her arms over her chest. She rolls her eyes at the ignorance of some assholes.

__

~three~

When she and Brittany break up, she’s angrier than usual. It’s hard not to be; she thought they were soulmates. She cries harder than she ever has before, and when Rachel walks in on her in the girls bathroom, she takes it out on her. 

“Go away, Midge. Leave me alone,” she says, her jaw clenched and her face wet. She wipes away her tears with the back of her hand, and leans over the sink, breathing deeply, attempting to calm herself. 

“I heard what happened,” Rachel whispers, approaching Santana. She hesitantly puts her hand on Santana’s back, and Santana pulls away as if she’s been burned. 

“You don’t know _shit_ , Selena,” she bursts out. Crossing her arms over her chest protectively, she walks over to the wall and slides down, sitting with her knees propped up, leaning against the tile for support. “You don’t know, you don’t. So back the fuck off and go make out with your boyfriend, the Michelin Man, okay? Or better yet, go find an empty locker and lock your tiny ass inside of it because I don’t want to hear your advice, I really don’t. Because right now, nothing you have to say is suddenly going to make things better. So get off your throne, _princess_ , and stop pretending like you care; I’m not some charity case, and I don’t want your false friendship. We’re not _friends_.” 

Rachel shakes her head and swallows hard, not backing down. “No, we are friends. We are. And this angry and mean facade that you’re putting on isn’t going to get me to go away.” Santana scoffs and rolls her eyes. 

“Are you deaf? Go _away_ ,” she says, crying even harder. She buries her face in her hands, and Rachel slides down the wall to sit next to her. She wraps her arms around Santana, and whispers softly into her ear.

“I know it hurts. You’re strong. You’ll get through this.” 

Santana breaks down in her arms and weeps, while Rachel strokes her hair and soothes her.

__

~four~

She sees them together before glee starts a month or two later. They’re snuggling by the piano. She sits between his legs on the bench, and he buries his nose in her neck and hair from behind her. Santana feels her heart sink, just a tad, and she can feel the bile rising in her throat. She glances at Brittany, who’s across the room from her, dancing jovially with Mike, and then she looks back at Rachel, whose smile could light up a room. 

It hurts her more than she can admit, that the grin on her face is because of _Finn_. 

“Will you stop?” Santana says angrily, jumping out of her seat and confronting the couple. “I know Joni loves Chachi, and Chachi loves Joni, but you know what? It’s sickening for the rest of us; having to stomach your PDA. Really, it’s like a caveman cuddling a chihuahua.” She pretends to puke for the theatricality of it all. “Go find a janitor’s closet...you’ll be finished before glee even starts with the minuteman over here.”

“Santana,” Rachel says, hurt, “why are you being so mean?” Her eyes are wide, and guilt creeps up to Santana’s cheeks and she blushes crimson. 

“I’m just being honest, Berry, but maybe you can’t handle that,” she says snottily, putting on a front. “If you’re going to be a star, you’ll need thicker skin.” 

Rachel furrows her eyebrows, and Finn jumps to his feet, becoming defensive.

“Don’t talk to her like that. She deserves better,” he says, clenching his fists. Santana looks at Rachel, whose eyes are filled with pain, watery with sadness and maybe even regret, and then she looks back at Finn, whose face is flushed with anger. 

“Yeah,” she whispers, moving in closer to his face, “she does deserve better.” The room is silent, and as Mr. Schue walks in, ignorant to the interaction, she walks out, tears flowing from her eyes, her stomach in knots.

What’s happening to her? 

__

~five~

She hears through the rumor mill that Rachel and Finn are broken up. 

“Fuck you, Finn,” she says in the middle of the hallway. Her voice is escalating, and a crowd of people gather to watch the interaction. “Dropping her for Quinn, I bet, yet _again_ , after everything, after a fucking _engagement_. She’s a regular Paris Hilton...she’s just going to _use_ you. But I guess that’s all you’re looking for, right? A hot piece of ass? And what, Rachel wasn’t good enough for you anymore?” Santana’s voice echoes through the hallway, and she pushes him a bit, sticking her finger in his face. “But let me tell you something, marshmallow fluff, she’s the best girl you’ll _ever_ have the pleasure of dating.” 

“Santana,” he starts, his voice a mere whisper, but she doesn’t let him speak. 

“You’re nothing but a little _puta_ with a set of Hulk hands you can’t keep to yourself. Go fuck Quinn, and the rest of the school while you’re at it, and _don’t_ touch Rachel again, or you’ll have me to hear from.” Her voice is low and dark, empathetic, even, for Rachel, and she pushes Finn again. She sighs loudly and looks at him with utter disgust. 

“What, do you like her or something?” Finn asks, and Santana’s cheeks tinge pink and she scoffs. 

“No,” she says, and she can tell right away that it’s a lie. She’s not sure when Rachel Berry made her way into her heart, but somehow she did. “I just hate douchebags like you who think they can prance around and crush the souls of stars like Rachel.”

“Santana,” Finn mumbles, taking a deep breath, “she broke up with _me_.” Santana’s brow furrows, and she looks at him confused.

“But...but she was in love with you...I thought...I thought she loved you...” she mutters, looking down at her feet. “She always...I don’t know.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she was the one fucking Quinn,” Finn says, shaking his head sadly. “She told me she wasn’t sure, but that...that...well, you know,” he says scratching his neck. “It seems like every girl who I end up sleeping with turns out...” He sighs. 

“What? A lesbian?” Santana says bluntly. 

“Yeah.” Finn’s voice is low, hurt, and Santana rubs his shoulder. 

“You’ll find a girl one day,” she says sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Finn says, and he shrugs, pretending he’s not affected. She smiles at him hopefully, and then walks away, her mind buzzing with shock and possibility.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

_~one~_

This time, it’s Rachel who’s crying in the bathroom. Weeks after her interaction with Finn, she finds Rachel sitting there, her face red and blotchy, and she sits down next to her and just holds her. 

“You don’t have to,” Rachel says, but Santana shushes her. 

“I want to,” she whispers, and she leans her head on her shoulder. “I know what it’s like to be in your...position.” Rachel blushes and more tears fall. “Finn told me.” 

Rachel nods. They sit there quietly, holding each other, Rachel’s sniffles the only audible sound echoing through the bathroom. Santana can feel Rachel’s heart beating against her arm, and despite wanting to say something, wanting to kiss her, she says nothing. She keeps her mouth shut. 

There will be another time, another place, for her profession of adoration. Right now, all Rachel needs is a shoulder to cry on. 

And she can be that shoulder.


End file.
